


Mistakes

by angelcastiel72



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace, Angels, Angst, Castiel in the Bunker, Cheating, Complicated Relationships, Dean Winchester Prays to Castiel, Dean cheated, Demons, Destiel - Freeform, Drinking, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Heartbreak, Hurt Castiel, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prayer, Smut, but it isn't happy, cas is upset, dream - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-17 00:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14821760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelcastiel72/pseuds/angelcastiel72
Summary: "Dean doesn't face him, gripping his chin with his hand, 'we gotta stop this, I mean you’re Crowley.''And you’re Dean Winchester but that doesn't stop ME, now does it? Come on, get back in bed,' Crowley urges.Dean rests his head in hands for a moment and looks at him, 'you know things have been complicated with…''With your feathered friend? Yup, I thought he was about to eat me yesterday, man talk about jealousy,' Crowley chuckles."***Things had gotten VERY complicated between Dean and Cas. Stuff happened and then other stuff happened and Dean just can't seem to figure out what he wants...





	1. Intercourse

**Author's Note:**

> This all developed from a little one-shot I had written about a year ago. I really don't know what happened but I just kind of kept writing so here we are. My first multi chapter fic. Hmmm.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean kind of... did something. A bad something.
> 
> P.s. the chapter title implies smut but I can assure you, there is none... for now anyway. And I will definitely inform you if there is any in the future.

"Cas!" Dean runs around the bunker like an idiot, dodging corners and door knobs, speeding his way to catch up with the surprisingly quick angel.

Dean makes his way into the library, sighing with relief when he finds Cas standing still for a moment. He is stood with his back toward Dean, crossing his arms. Dean takes a moment to breathe, just waiting for an outburst. The dim light originating from a small lamp on the table to their right highlights only Cas, marking a faint line across the carpet that separates the two of them

Dean is the first to speak, "let me explain."

"There are not many things I understand, and I know you are fully aware of that, but I do understand intercourse," Cas’s voice remains emotionless.

Dean was taken aback, and hesitates for a moment. He could never seem to get used to the blunt way in which Cas speaks.

"I see now that none of this meant anything," Cas utters. Watching him from behind, Dean notices the way Cas lowers his head, his shoulders sinking, and his arms suddenly dropping loose to his sides. “Perhaps this is my punishment for finding love.”

"Cas… I..." Dean looks between them, the distance that keeps Dean from being close to him starts to gnaw a his mind. He takes a step forward, unsure of what he wants to say but he knows he just has to say something if he wants any chance of recovering from this. Cas turns around but refuses to look him in the eyes, giving Dean a little reminder that the pain Cas is going through is all his fault.

"Like I said, your explanation isn’t required. I would, however appreciate it if you did not follow me into the kitchen," Cas speaks as if he believes any loud noise might cause the walls to come crashing down, keeping it monotone and carefully quiet. His eyes flick to Dean’s for a moment, but long enough for Dean see that shutting him out is the last thing Cas wants to do, but that it’s his best option. His eyes are also the only indication that Cas is feeling anything at all. As Cas turns back slowly and continues walking past the library, Dean thinks, I fucked up.

He wanted, maybe needed, to tell Cas what was really going on. All he could think about was the way Cas looked so damn heartbroken, and he realizes that things are better this way. He should be free of me.

He finally convinces himself to go back to his room. As he walks closer, he dreads entering, his hand hovering over the doorknob for a few seconds. When he opens the door, Crowley is sitting on his bed, fully dressed.

"I assume-" Crowley began, as Dean finally hurls his pent up rage.

"Why the fuck did you do that?!" Dean yells, pure anger coursing through his veins.

"Me? You make choices of your own will, if you didn't know," Crowley rebuttals, keeping his eyes on Dean to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid - well - more stupid… 

Dean drops his head, his hands clenched, jaw tight, brows furrowed; a sight reserved only for the people he plans on destroying. 

"I'll just leave you to it then," Crowley says, breaking the last straw and Dean looks up, ready to charge and knock the hell out of Crowley; only to find that Crowley had teleported, presumably, back to Hell.


	2. God's Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas sits alone... thinking.

There are moments when Castiel longs for the time he had spent as a full powered angel. He misses the simple act of flying, at times the self-righteousness, and overall how complete and intact he still he was. He realizes now that he took it all for granted, but life had been that way for millions of years. He relied only on his strength and superiors to guide him, and it was all gloriously easy. For he hadn’t made a single decision yet; therefore, he hadn’t destroyed the world yet. And living that way hadn’t become impossible just quite yet. All that time, it was so simple and immensely less painful. That was God’s plan for Castiel, and he had chosen to defy every single last bit of it. He mocked the role he was destined for, and played another part. Yet, sitting in a small kitchen in a rather secluded town of Lebanon, Kansas, he has absolutely no regrets on the matter. It all leads back to that moment when he ultimately learned that the written script had to be burned; he needed to define his own mission alongside two men that finally opened a door for Castiel that he never dreamed of opening all those years ago when he was a full powered angel.

He knows that first decision marked his downward spiral into a pit of mistakes and self loathing, but that decision, in the end, was what had saved him. The events that followed were the things that Castiel does regret, but there is no need to delve into such tragic moments, considering that something else was the reason for his state of longing. Currently, he is still sitting in that same kitchen wishing, particularly passionately, that he could have his wings back. If only just for a moment, so he could instantly travel to some place that didn’t have anything to do with that human.

That human that… he saved. 

The human with the beautiful soul which left a mark on Castiel as he grabbed it and hurled it toward Earth to be free from damnation. The soul that never belonged there in the first place. He, having heard the full story, acknowledges the irony of the righteous man serving in Hell due to the strength at which he loved his brother. And now, there he was, the beautiful soul, the man who deserved to be saved, the human Castiel devotes his life to, engaging in hedonistic acts with a beast void of and in defilement of God’s light. It was disturbingly blasphemous, and Castiel never dreamed that sort of thing would matter to him ever again but… for some reason it does. To watch that soul, which had recently been saved yet again from the torment of perdition, willingly infect itself? With the King of Hell? With Castiel’s personal arch nemesis? That was the most horrifying event he’d ever seen. And knowing all of the things Castiel has seen, that truly speaks a lot, in and of itself.

Castiel rests his weight onto his arm, clutching the table for support. His eyes focus strictly down, counting every mark etched into the dark, smooth wood. Perhaps filling his mind with unnecessary information may cause a shortage of some sort. Maybe he can simply forget the things he’s witnessed. It’s a shame human bodies don’t function that way, but nevertheless he keeps trying. Ringing and static starts to fill his mind, and three small echoes emerge amidst the call:

‘Cas… Cas… please…’

Three small little prayers that all come from him. The human that is causing his grief, who is contacting him with his soul once more, and it serves to act as a metaphorical slap in the face to Castiel. Contact like this should feel reassuring, and remind him of the soul’s purity and beauty. But now, a small bit of unholy excrement has been able to touch it and defile it in the most ungodly way. Castiel can sense every single bit of this, with its laced and latching hold of the man’s soul like it’s only purpose is to destroy God’s Creation.

And Castiel suddenly found himself collapsing onto the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cas. *sigh*
> 
> This is my first time posting a multi chapter fic and it's kind of exciting. I'm definitely having fun with this. Well, except I hate Cas being upset but that's what you sign up for when ya write angst *shrug*
> 
> And sorry that these chapters aren't very long, I'm trying to work on adding more with chapters to come. Bare with me.


	3. Hedonism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to head out.

Don’t think. 

Don’t think. 

Don’t think.

That prospect has Dean willing to do just about anything. And it also happens to be the inspiration for this spur of the moment drive to a bar located just outside of Lebanon. With a drink or two (or several) he can finally just stop thinking. He can even pretend that he’s in a similar situation as most people that could be found sitting alone on a bar stool late at night. Maybe he has a wife that had been cheating on him and he just desperately needs to get drunk and vent. Or his soulless 9 to 5 is really dragging on him lately and the touch of a nice stranger is just the comfort he desires. Anything other than him being a pitiless drunk who uses saving the world as an excuse to drive a knife through something’s chest; that maybe he is the same sadistic piece of filth he was when he was a demon. At least then he had an excuse.

Parking the impala in front of his establishment of choice, he takes a step out and looks around for a moment. The moon is climbing ever so lustrously up the sky for the first hint of nighttime. A full moon. The LED of the sign rests over the scene like a twisted halo. Silence would have made the whole sight dim and depressing, but faint hums and the sound of music transforms it into something a little more comforting. 

Dean walks inside, and familiar surroundings welcome him. He takes a once over at the place, which is decently packed for a random Wednesday night, and people are laughing, arguing, and best of all: drinking. Bars like this happen to act as a kind of home, something they never had growing up. And bars are the one place he can be whomever he chooses and ignore any problems that threaten to take hold once he leaves. 

As Dean walks up to the bar stools he happens to glance in the direction of a decent looking guy, who definitely seems interested, and Dean happens to take the opportunity to stare at him hungrily. His skin is on the tan side, and his face is stippled with a delectable amount of stubble. He’s stood around a few other guys, glass in hand, his head turned with the purpose of locking eyes with Dean. Before Dean can get too carried away, he finally disconnects his gaze and sits down at a stool. Another kind of moment arises as he looks at the bartender. Her dark brunette hair bounces off her shoulders as she walks in front of him, wearing a deliciously sinful smile. He orders a beer, topping it off with a wink. She gives him the whole, ‘I get a lot of guys in here flirting with me but you’re different,’ routine. He plays along before she moves on to the next customer. 

And yeah, drinking at the bunker would get him to the same destination it would anywhere else, but it’s really the change of atmosphere that he craves. The alcohol is basically the cherry on top of the metaphorical margarita. And in this particular situation Dean severely needed to get the hell out. 

But he quickly realizes it’s not enough. Beer is to Dean as water is to people which means that he needs something stronger. It’s obvious mostly because he can still see him. The angel. His very own ‘it’s complicated’ situation. He shouldn’t ever have fucking crossed the line between friend and… 

Crap. What was he doing? What were THEY doing? Dean seriously needs anything stronger. Anything.

Downing the freshly ordered whiskey, he groans at the song beginning to play over the chatters of the rest of the bar.

“I'm too sexy for my shirt 

Too sexy for my shirt

So sexy it hurts… ”

Now somebody else comes waltzing into the mind field that is Dean’s head. A certain, suit-wearing, red eyes-having, deal-making, King of Hell. Hmmm… yeah.

And then Cas again. 

Standing at the door… watching silently. That tense, dark stare that he figures would actually be arousing under other circumstances. As he sloshes back another hit of whiskey, his head happens to lookup and his eyes happen to drift over to that man. Who happens to look over at Dean.

The man says a few words to the fellows he’s presumably come to the bar with, and makes his way over to Dean.

“I don’t want to assume things here, but uh, I think I have reason to believe you might be into me,” the man speaks with an air of confidence that Dean has to respect.

“Maybe, and I’m also going to assume that if you’re willing to talk to me you might be willing to do something about it,” Dean leans against the bar counter, looking up and down at the stranger in front of him.

His dark brown eyes shine for a moment in the reflecting lights of the bar, “maybe I am. I’m Luke.”

“Hi Luke, I’m Dean. Now that we have that taken care of, I think it’s socially acceptable to ask you if you might wanna head out of here.”

“And I don’t give a damn if it’s unacceptable for me to say yes, 'cuz I’d like that a lot.”

Of course, Dean is well aware that all this should be happening with a certain coat-wearing, grace-having, bee-loving man but… oh well, it’s time to stop thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe one day Dean will make a smart decision... we can dream.
> 
> Edit: I hope to post chapter 4 this Friday or Saturday :)


	4. The Righteous Man Has Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And he's fallen hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on time! *does dance* okay you can read now, I'll shut up :)

… So… that just happened.

Dean is just glad that the impala is always prepared for battle. He isn’t, however, very happy that he had to spend a few hours cleaning up a random motel room so he doesn’t get charged for murder. And he, without really thinking about it, kind of wishes that he can ask Cas to heal the bleeding gash across his chest. But he knows full well that would be a stupid move. And he doesn’t need him anyway, right? Considering he’s been hunting for far longer than he’s known Cas and always found a way to walk off things like this. And who’s to say that Cas would even want to help him right now…

‘Zzzzzzz,’ his phone buzzes incessantly on his his thigh, and Dean mumbles out a, “yeah?” as he answers it.

“Geez Dean, where - actually I really don’t wanna know where you are. Get back to the bunker. Now,” a truly pissed off Sam ends the call with a huff and Dean glances down at his blood-covered hands for a moment. 

With a sigh, he limply grabs at a napkin, halfheartedly wiping at his arm that’s still holding the steering wheel. Grunting, he gives up, opting to wash himself up when he gets back. But thinking about it, he really doesn’t wanna go back. In fact, going to the bar and almost getting laid before the guy wolfed out, that was all kind of fun actually. Maybe it’s fucked up but, it gave him perspective. He had been in the same position that a lot of people he saved (or was too late to save) were in. Being hunted unsuspectingly by a creature that goes bump in the night. Except Dean can fight them, which is more than a lot of people can say. But that is his job after all, to fight those kinds of things.

All this late night driving seems to be getting to him, now that he’s thinking again. The way his thoughts are going, things almost sound… deep?

‘Oh shut up, I’m not deep,’ Dean thinks to himself. ‘I’m just a confused idiot covered in blood.’

Dean sighs, recognizing the road as the one that leads to the main entrance of the bunker. As he hesitantly turns right and onto it, a figure walking along the sidewalk on the far side of the road looks suspicious enough to catch Dean’s eye. They also seem to speed up when they see the car. It’s hard to really make anything out of the guy, but Dean doesn’t mistake that particular coat on that particular build.

Dean stops and parks the impala, without much care since hardly anybody went down these roads, especially not at night. He briskly jogs across the street and hurries to catch up with the man.

“Wait, Cas, is that you? Cas?!” Dean calls out, standing close enough to notice the features that all remind him of his friend. And then Cas turns around, warily avoiding Dean’s eyes.

There is enough light (in combination with the impala headlights and the full moon) for them to both see in what condition the other is in. Cas looks over to the road, clothes lightly rustling in the chilling breeze. He looks worn out, like he’d been searching through a dark and empty cavern for years, in hope of finding one last breath of air.

“You’re bloody and wounded,” Cas says superfluously.

Dean nods, a grim smile on his face. He could always count on Cas to state the obvious.

“Ganking a werewolf will do that to a guy,” Dean shrugs.

“You went hunting?” Cas inquires, seemingly not very surprised at this assumption.

“You could say that, sure,” Dean pauses, “So, why are you out here?”

“Well, I can’t find my car. It seems I had left it when…” Cas hesitates at the memory, “when we came back. Sam can probably tell you the rest.”

And with that, Cas turns around to begin heading up the road. “Wait, Cas.”

Dean runs up to him, and holds his wrist to stop him from continuing. Cas yanks his arm out of his grasp, holding it closer to his body, and Dean realizes his mistake. Both of them stand there, tense, emotional, and silent.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted you to stop,” Dean’s eyes search for any hint as to what he is really thinking, and as Cas speaks again, the emotion in his voice catches Dean off guard. 

“Dean,” there is an icy yet burning fire in his tone, “tonight - I didn’t stop you. You let him into your room - and into… and I didn't stop you. Please, show me some respect and leave me alone.”

Cas takes Dean’s silence as corroboration and starts back on his path away from him. Dean takes a step back, and stands there, watching Cas steadily growing smaller and fading into the distance. Too many questions stir in his mind, too many regrets and too many failures. He tries not to think about the pained image of Cas, and the fact that he hadn’t looked Dean in the eye. Not even once. He holds at bay the self-destructive words that no doubt describe Dean perfectly. Things like heartless, cruel, evil, and monster. 

Now he really needs to stop thinking.

At last, Dean coaxes himself out of standing around, waiting for some miracle that would all at once admonish him for his wrongdoings and bring his angel back. That isn’t going to happen, and it was getting very cold. ‘I hope Cas is okay,’ his mind thinks before he can get the the better of himself and squash the girly sentinement right away. He turns back and makes his way over to the impala and down that road he had planned to drive down a few minutes ago. 

 

Sam is sat at the map table, his head lazily thrown down into the arm lying over an open book. Dean’s loud stomps down the staircase seem to jolt him awake.

“You’re gonna explain to me what’s going on, “ Dean pauses as Sam stares at him incredulously. “but first I’m gon’ go wash up,” he declares and walks into the hall that leads into his bedroom. 

 

Dean allows his eyes to drift upward from the sink and land on his reflection in the mirror. There’s some red marks on his arms, a few minor scratches on his face and stomach, and then the throbbing slash that’s covered in dry blood at the top of his sternum. And don’t forget the splatters of wolf blood on his face. It’s almost gruesome, but Dean’s used to the look of it all by now. He leans against the sink, closing his eyes, trying for a bit of peace and a moment of utter silence. He winces as the gash reminds him again that he needs to get on with it. 

He steps into the shower, letting the warm water pelt his face free of the all the muck. As usual, any and all cuts sting and burn under the liquid, but it doesn’t even faze him anymore. He stands there a moment, feeling the wetness of his skin, letting the vapor in the air coat his lungs, and listening to the ethereal sound of water spraying out of a shower head. He sighs and stops thinking. 

After struggling to thoroughly dry off his body with a towel, his large cut making it impossible to do so without shooting pains, he gives up and puts on his loose sweatpants. He decides to leave off his shirt for the time being, so he can deal with this darned cut. 

He looks in a cabinet to find their cheap whiskey, dental floss, and sewing needle. Grabbing a plain t - shirt for later, he walks leisurely back into the war room. Sam is back to napping again, but now with a beer in front of him. Dean clears his throat with a loud, ‘ahem.’

Sam sits up, a bit groggy at first but realization hits as he looks to Dean, “Uh, how about we start with you explaining things?”

“Well, first, I can’t really do this myself,” Dean gestures to his chest, “so could you maybe-”

“Get over here,” Sam motions him over with his hand.

Dean sits down in a chair beside him and he gets to work. Sam is clearly still upset with Dean but of course he’d still help out his brother. It’s one refreshingly nice gesture in a night full of mistakes. 

“So I got kind of tangled up with a werewolf, “Dean shrugs.

Sam raises a brow, starting to pat the wound with a napkin soaked in the whiskey. 

“So let me try to get this straight. You did something to seriously upset Cas, like...” Sam pauses, shaking his head, “a lot, and then you go out on a hunt?”

It’s kind of funny in a sad way that everyone close to him assumes hunting would be his first reaction to a stressor. It’s even sadder that sometimes that was true. 

Dean shakes his head slightly, “no, I went out to drink and then, ya know, guy kind of… came out of nowhere.”

“So a werewlf jumped you in a bar?” Sam questions, his eyes still focusing on the needle he’s weaving through Dean’s wound.

“Um, well, we were alone,” Dean adds with trepidation

“You were alone with a werewolf,” Sam nods, and Dean rolls his eyes with an irritated huff.

“Okay, well, and then after I dealt with that, Cas was just walking around outside and told me you could explain that so, could ya?” 

Sam finishes his last loop and sits up, setting the needle down and grabbing the tissue for one last alcohol swab of the area. He nods to Dean that he can put on his shirt and he does so. 

“Um, well when I went into the kitchen a couple hours ago, Cas was just lying on the floor like he passed out or something,” Dean tenses at that, “but he was okay, mostly. I tried asking him what was wrong but he just sort of wouldnt look at me and whispered something like, ‘the righteous man has fallen.’ And later he finally told me that it involved you.”

Sam isn’t finished yet but Dean has to look away. To think Cas was in such bad shape… because of him?

“Then he insisted on leaving and with the look on his face, I couldn't object. And that’s when I called you. Dean, what the hell did you do?” Sam’s face is etched with worry and insistence.

Suddenly, it all comes back to Dean, every night and every touch. With both angel and demon. Dean can’t do this, he can’t let Sammy know what an absolute fuck up he really is. 

Dean clenches his jaw, and releases, quickly searching his scattering thoughts for what to say, “It’s not important. I’m gonna go try to sleep this off.”

Before Dean can even begin to stand up, Sam is already on his feet, “no, Dean, maybe you can shut me out when it comes to your personal turmoil - or whatever - but this isn’t just about you anymore. I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on between you and Cas.”

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Sam is Cas’s friend too. And Sammy is always really stubborn when it comes to the people he loves. But not more stubborn than Dean when he wants to hide something.

“Man, I’m just tired. What is it? Like 4 in the morning? Let’s sleep and I can pour my heart out to you first thing,” Dean stands up and gives Sam one last half hearted smile. He hears Sam mutter, ‘not likely,’ under his breath but he just keeps walking back to his room.

He can’t fuck up anything in his sleep, right?


	5. When Pigs Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream is a wish your heart makes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This symbol, * , means a difference in time
> 
> 2\. You have no idea how excited I am to finally publish this. But I'm not gonna tell you why.
> 
> 3\. I had to throw in a little jab at Dean's decision in season 13 finale (doesn't change the timeline of this story - I'm just salty). So I hope you see the symbolism.
> 
> 4\. Slight warning for Dean's borderline homophobic thought process - it's nothing too different from what the show has depicted but I thought I should warn you just in case.

“Hey, is it flying?” Dean asks Sam, standing in a field watching a small little pig start to hover above the floor. After growing wings. 

“Well, pigs have been flying since we made that deal with Michael, ya know the one where we gave him your hands,” Sam answers matter-of-factly. 

“Huh?” Dean questions and looks down to see that his arms… have no hands whatsoever. Like none at all. Dean can’t help but scream.

“At least we stopped the goat from eating the giant,” Sam shrugs and runs his fingers through his hair, the strands glistening in the sunlight.

“A giant? Hey, stop tickling me!” Dean flinches, sensations of fingers running down his side.

“Are you crazy? I’m standing like 5 feet away from you,” Sam laughs.

“Yeah, I’m the crazy one, Mr. No hands and Flying Goats,” Dean mutters.

“Flying pigs,” Sam corrects. 

“Stop tickling me,” Dean grumbles.

And with that, the field becomes Dean’s room in the bunker. Reality begins to take focus in Dean’s mind, with one odd sensation that carries over from the dream. The damn tickling.

“Rise and shine my grumpy princess,” a gruff British voice whispers in Dean’s ear.

Great. Crowley.

“Yeah okay,” Dean mumbles, annoyed. He clamps his hand down onto Crowley’s, which had still been wiggling on Dean’s side. “When I get up I’m gonna shoot you in the face.”

“Aw Dean, well alright if that’s how you want to show your love,” Crowley mocks in response. “Ya know, Dean, I’m not sure that this relationship is going to be very healthy if we keep threatening to kill each other.”

Dean responds tiredly, with his head still half-facing his pillow.

“Who said anything about this being a - “ he pauses, choosing his words carefully to avoid certain declarations, “being healthy.”

“You’re absolutely right, Squirrel,” Crowley begins to move his hand from under Dean’s, heading slowly downward and marking a path from dean’s leg and to his inner thigh. The shock of his hand moving right there fully awakens Dean, who finally opens his eyes the rest of the way.

He debates if he should stay here, comfortably lying down with a body close to him. It’s warm, relaxing, and tinged with a subtle yet engrossing feeling of obscenity. It would be so easy just to give in again, to the feverish desire that calls promising intoxication and euphoria. 

Oh, what the hell.

As Crowley’s hand does it’s thing, Dean leans his back into him, noticing for the first time… the feeling of bare skin.

Dean tenses and asks, “are you naked?” .

“Just wanted to be prepared,” the smirk is permanently tinged in his voice, “this is nice, right? See, I told you foreplay was important.”

“Shut up,” Dean groans, and reaches his hand back, to do some things to Crowley now.

Things get heated pretty quickly, eliciting grunts and moans here and there. But there’s no connection, or soothing touch - nothing like…

Can he just get one minute of piece without thinking about that fucking angel?!

Dean sighs, his hand stopping and getting up. 

“Hey!” Crowley’s upset, but he’s dealt with worse.

Dean doesn't face him, gripping his chin with his hand, “we gotta stop this, I mean you’re Crowley.”

“And you’re Dean Winchester but that doesn't stop ME, now does it? Come on, get back in bed,” Crowley urges.

Dean rests his head in hands for a moment and looks at him, “you know things have been complicated with…”

“With your feathered friend? Yup, I thought he was about to eat me yesterday, man talk about jealousy,” Crowley chuckles.

“Wait, how long did you see him there?” Dean narrows his eyes, suspicion looming in his mind.

“Long enough to think he should've just taken a picture already,” Crowley replies casually. 

“You didn't think to say something like, ‘oh hey your friend just walked in on-’ gosh, you’re so-” Dean’s words are coming out too harsh, too fast, and he just can't think about anything other than the way Cas had looked at him…

“Hey, how about you come back to bed and we work through all this?” Crowley’s eyebrows are lifted in suggestion.

“How about you tell me what’s really going on here,” Dean quickly locates a random flannel from one of his drawers and throws it on, covering his shirtless from.

Crowley stares at him for a moment, “I can't say it wasnt fun to be watched, or fun to give him a little wink here and there, but there’s nothing more to it than that.”

“You mean you didn’t wanna mess things up between us so you could have me all to yourself?” Dean questions, his eyebrow raised.

“That certainly didn't hurt,” Crowley shrugs, severely getting under Dean’s skin.

“You can leave now,” Dean spits, his frustration very clear.

“What? We can't even-”

“Get out!” he stares at him hard, about ready to give him that punch he couldn't yesterday.

Crowley gives a huff, and snaps his fingers. His bed is empty and Dean feels it all cave in.

Dean turns around to face his mirror again. His eyes are slightly red and overall, he can't begin to describe how much he hates this reflection. He sees himself, except now he’s a failure. With a lopsided flannel and blood shot eyes, he closes them and does something he had given up on yesterday.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Dean prays, his voice cracking. He hopes that the pain he’s feeling in this moment translates, because he can’t take the thought of what Cas might be thinking of him right now.

And maybe, somehow, Cas can see how badly he takes it all back.

Ringing makes Dean look up in confusion, but he can already tell its not coming from his own phone. He turns around and finally spots something black that’s peeking out from the bottom of the bed. He walks over and reaches for it, now seeing clearly that it’s Cas’s.

What happened?

“Sammy!”

After a few moments, Sam walks up from the hall. He looks between Dean and what's in is hand, “is that Cas’s phone?” 

“Yeah,” Dean chucks the it over to him, “why is it in my room?”

Sam just stares for a second, “um - how should I know?”

“Well you were with him last night and I know this wasn't here before I left,” Dean says, sure of himself that something must've gone down.

“Man, I don't know know okay, but maybe we should just focus on the fact that he could be 100 miles away from here and we can't call him,” Sam adds, annoyed.

“Actually, he may be closer than that.”

Sam looks at him with furrowed brows, confused.

“He doesn't actually have his car,” Dean says it a little faster, hoping maybe Sam would just say ‘cool’ and not question him about it. 

“And you didn't say anything?” Clearly Dean’s wrong.

“Um well, it seems we both of us could stand to be a little more honest - but how about we just go find the lost angel,” Dean insists.

Sam sighs, staring at him for a second before nodding sternly.

“Let’s go.”

 

Sam and Dean flee for the impala, Dean hopping in to the driver’s seat and Sam in the passenger. 

He isn't very hopeful that Cas will be anywhere close, It’s been hours and Cas isn’t a slow walker.

‘He’s not really slow at anything,’ Dean amuses to himself. 

“So, let me just understand this one thing,” Sam glances to Dean.

Dean looks back at him, letting Sam continue.

“Why doesn't he have his car?”

“To cut it short, we kind of - accidentally left it,” Dean answers hesitantly.

Sam narrows his eyes a bit, “okay. So how do think he’s getting around now?”

And Dean feels bad - or - worse than he already does, “he was walking last time I knew.”

Sam pauses, definitely frustrated, “and I’m guessing you saw him go down this road?”

“Yep,” Dean gives Sam his best reassuring smile, but it’s forced and Dean doesn't have the energy to really think about what state Cas could be in right now.

 

And then, a couple miles down the road, a coated figure drifts into view. It’s somewhat distant but Dean gives Sam a hopeful look. As they inch closer, it becomes clearer and clearer: they found him.

“You have his phone right?” Dean asks Sam as he pulls over. 

“Yeah,” Sam replies and then puts his arm over Dean’s chest, stopping him from getting up, “maybe I should talk to him?”

Dean furrows his brows for a second. ‘Oh,’ he thinks, ‘Cas doesn't want to see me, huh?’

“Okay, yeah,” hesitantly, Dean nods, encouraging Sam to get out before they could scare Cas away.

He watches Sam close the door and, ahead of them Cas stops in his tracks. He turns half way, his hands in the pockets of his coat, and glances in the direction of the Impala. Sam walks up to him, and he still doesn't turn completely around.

I guess Dean’s dream got it right. Cas will go back to the bunker with them - when pigs fly.

Dean watches as Sam gets a little more insistent, his hands coming up and the muffled sound of his voice raising. Cas shakes his head and Dean can hardly convince himself to stay in the car. Then, suddenly, surprising, spontaneously, Cas looks toward Dean. Their eyes aren't quite connected but its that same haunting, terrifying, amazing look. It’s takes everything for Dean not to get out the car and - 

God, can they take any longer?!

Cas turns to looks at Sam now, his face softening, and nodding slowly at Sam. And he and Cas are walking back to the Impala. Dean should’ve known he can count on his younger brother.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean greets him once he sits down in the back seat. Dean leans back a little, locking his eyes with him for the first time in a while.

Cas just nods slightly, acknowledging Dean but clearly refusing conversation.

“Cas - I know-”

“Sam and I agreed I would stay in the bunker so long as you didn't bother me,” Cas looks at Dean before turning his head to stare out the window.

Dean glances to Sam, and raises his eyebrows as if to say ‘you know that was stupid right?’

“He’s mad at you,” Sam whispers, making it obvious that is a vast understatement.

The drive back in the opposite direction is silent, awkward, and long. At least for Dean. But he just keeps driving, hoping maybe he can get Cas to come around. Maybe it’s stupid to think, considering what Dean had done, but maybe the whole thing was stupid. All of it. Everything that happened between the two of them. Maybe it shouldn't have. Actually, he knows it shouldn't've. But, at the same time… it had felt right. More than that, it was what both of them had wanted - needed. Of course, until Dean couldn’t take it anymore and ruined everything.

*

‘Am I gay? This doesn’t make me gay right? Maybe I can just pass it off as being very close friends, because that wouldn't be gay… right? If I’m just slightly closer to my friend then most guys? Well none of it, like, MEANS anything. I’m just… close with Cas. Yeah, we’re just close.’

Dean debates in his head, having suddenly gotten himself trapped in the web of spiraling doubt.

Except, of course, Cas’s hand is interlacing with Dean’s.

Dean pulls away, settling his right hand onto the steering wheel. Cas looks at him with concern, and is seemingly a little somber at the loss.  
“Is something wrong?”

“I shouldn't have done that. Hand holding is - kind of - romantic,” Dean explains to Cas.

“And blowjobs aren’t?” Cas quirks a brow.

Dean gulps. 

“No, um, of course they are. They’re just - ya know - not in our case,” dean bites his lip, a little nervous. Maybe it has something do with that everlasting bluntness.

“Well I guess that works out. I'm an angel now, as you remember that means… I have lost certain…” Cas trails off. He can barely just detect of note of disappointment in his voice.

“Needs?” Dean fills in.

“Yes,” Cas is sounding even more awkward than usual.

“And that’s good. Yeah, I can just - get mine fulfilled somewhere else,” Dean hopes this will be a comfort, but Cas tenses up.

“Don’t,” is all he says before turning away from him to stare out the window. As they drive, trees and masses of bushes blow by them.

Dean sighs, having trouble with the thought of promising anything.

*

A few hours later, after they have all gotten safely back to the bunker, Dean looks into his mirror again. His heart beat steadily increasing and his breath quickening, but worst of all, his eyes are forming wet little droplets. He has to see Cas.

Getting himself together, and pulling on a t-shirt, he walks out of his room. He notices the khaki color of Cas’s trench coat, as he walks near the library.

“Cas?” Dean says carefully.

He glances up from his book, “I’m busy.”

“Look - I know I fucked up,” Dean begins. Cas looks back down, to continue reading. “Maybe we can - I don’t know - talk? We never really did that.”

Cas shakes his head, “there is nothing to discuss.”

“That’s not true,” Dean pulls out a seat, sitting across from him. “I need you to understand something, Cas. For one thing, Crowley’s a dick. There was nothing even close to the - emotion that you give me. He’s just a body to touch when I - I really just want you.”

Cas’s eyes flick up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure if I should tell you blatantly but, I'm feeling nice, so a goat represents the devil and a giant represents a nephilim.
> 
> *Whistles absentmindedly*
> 
> EDIT: AHHH! So as you can see, I've just figured out that there will be 8 chapters in total. I'm gonna stop talking before I spoil anything, see you soon!


	6. All Those Years Ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...when this began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for smut - it's about as in depth as the scene between Dean and Crowley last chapter, so, not really detailed whatsoever. No 'certain body parts' are named or anything, but there is rather physical contact so if that is a problem I think next chapter will be better for you. 
> 
> Also, I have indicated where the most graphic stuff is with a '---'
> 
> But again, it really isn't graphic.

“So,” Dean takes a sip of beer, “how’s life as a human?”

“I’m still just learning,” Cas sighs, smiling sadly, “I’m still just… so lost.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean looks at him, offering comfort with a long gaze. “So this is new huh?”

Cas glances down, smile fading, “I thought I already understood what humanity felt like, but, actually being completely human is just so - overwhelming.”

Dean quirks an eyebrow at that, “in what way?”

“Well, for starters, sensation, mostly biological ones. They’re so demanding. Have you noticed how painful it is to go without food, Dean? I don’t know you deal with it all.”

Cas’s mind seems to be wandering, over all the little things he’s noticed about his new life, and he closes his eyes for a moment. Dean’s wanders a little too, thinking, ‘biological sensation, hm? I wonder…’

“Hey, um this might be an awkward question but do angels - you know…” Dean purses, gesturing with his hands.

“I don't understand, are you asking whether or not angels take their rings off? Cas tilts his head, his brows slightly furrowed. 

Maybe Dean should’ve know that Cas doesn’t understand that gesture but, nevertheless his confusion and innocence is absolutely hilarious. Dean expresses this with a giant chuckle.

“No, I, uh, I mean,” Dean calms down, not sure that he should even ask this or why wants to, “can angels like get freaky?”

Cas stares at him, now wrapped in utter confusion. “Please stop using metaphors and gestures, I cannot comprehend-”

“Can angels have sex?” Dean boldly states.

Cas actually gulps with nervousness, “well… technically yes. As long as we’re,” he stops himself, “as long as they’re in a vessel they have complete, um, access I guess would be the word.”

“But they generally don’t?” Dean asks.

“Not really, they are able to subdue their vessel’s desires. Like hunger for example,” Cas shifts a little in his seat.

They are sitting on opposite sides of a motel bed, Cas near the farther cross-legged and Dean resting against the headboard.

“But as a human they can’t,” Dean’s voice is edged with a certain undertone, but he chooses to ignore what that really means.

Cas’s eyes shoot back to him, and then to floor again, “no.”

“Have you had any, I don't know, desire filled moments yet?” Dean searches Cas’s face. 

It’s not weird that he wants to know so much, like, this is what friends are for right? For talking about how you’ve gotten laid?

“You mean, have I engaged in,” he pauses, “sexual activity? No, I haven't and I don't think I plan to.”

“Not with anyone? I mean if there’s any way to live as a human, I’d say it’s taking advantage of the perks,” Dean shrugs, attempting to make this as casual as possible.

“Well,” Cas keeps looking between Dean and pretty much the rest of the room at this point, with something clearly on him mind, “I - um.”

He just can’t say it. It’s like watching an animal try to talk for the first time. 

“You’re funny when you’re nervous, kinda like a middle schooler at a dance,” Dean comments lightheartedly, setting his bottle down on the nightstand.

Cas is silent, not looking directly at Dean anymore.

“Well there’s still, um, certain things I’m learning.”

And then something catches Dean’s eye, and he isn’t weirded out by it, but rather… 

“Like how to tell your friend you have a boner?” Dean winks, feeling a little sympathetic as Cas’s eyes widen in total shock.

“I - I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about it,” Cas’s words come out a bit stumbled and hasty.

“Dudes usually don’t get hard around each other either but I guess we can ignore that for now,” Dean smirks slightly, not trying to think too hard about what all this means.

“Well, is there something I can do about it,” there is worry in Cas’s eyes, and he genuinely seems to want an answer.

But holy crap, Cas just asked if there’s something he can do about his boner. And there is nothing about that which isn’t eliciting about a million dirty jokes in Dean’s mind.

Dean begins, “well, other than jacking off, the next best option is waiting for it to go away. But I'm still here so you probably shouldn't just whip it out or anything,” Dean says, on the verge of cracking up with laughter.

“Okay but - um,” Cas shifts again, “it’s rather uncomfortable.”

“Well that’s what you signed for when ya nabbed a male vessel. Honestly I think you missed an opportunity, being a girl is probably way more fun,” Dean chuckles, Cas looking slightly confused again.

“How do you normally deal with a situation like this?”

Now it’s time for Dean to stumble on his words, “you, you know - usually I’m with someone I - I want to have…”

“Sex with?” Cas finishes.

Dean raises his brows, “um, yeah exactly.”

Cas nods, understanding finally reaching him.

Dean comments, “earlier I asked if there was anyone you wanted to do that with, and then you get a boner. Hm, I think there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Dean grins and scoots a little close. Out of sheer curiosity of course.

“That is true,” now Dean is really curious, “I can't possibly tell you everything I know for I have collected much knowledge over the past millennia and-”

“No, Cas,” Dean smiles again, shaking his head, “for a guy that knows so much you really don't get subtleties huh?”

Cas pauses and stares at Dean, his face unreadable, “it is generally lost on me.”

“So you say that you’re having problems understanding sensation,” Dean begins, scooting over a little closer once again. 

Dean is still about a foot away but Cas shifts uncomfortably again, his pants seem to be getting even more tight.

“Does that include touch?” Dean’s voice is softer, laced with an air of hesitancy.

“Like when I hold things?” Cas gives im a nervous glance.

Dean absentmindedly licks his lips, “or, maybe, if someone were to touch you?”

“I don't - I haven't really had the opportunity to-”

And with that, Dean acts on more of his curiosity, reaching his hand out to rest it on Cas’s knee. He rubs a little down the inner side of Cas’s calf with his thumb.

“You would normally not do this,” Cas tilts his head again, confused.

“Yeah but normally we also don’t talk about sex,” Dean shrugs, “screw normal. Just, sit still and tell me if anything feels wrong or if you want me to stop.”

Dean just lets his hand stay at his knee for a moment, letting Cas get used to the idea of it all. He travels his hand over the whole of Cas’s calf, and he seems to be slowly relaxing and focussing on the touch. A small part of Dean wishes there weren't any pants in his way, but he keeps going, now up along his thigh. Feeling the pressure and movement of a hand still seems a bit new to Cas. He stirs a little when Dean’s hand grips lightly at his hip, his breath coming in slightly louder. Dean moves closer, now just a few inches between their position on the bed. Dean moves his left hand farther up stil, onto his side, his hand reaching inside Cas’s trench coat. 

“It feels…” Cas trails off, his voice even a bit deeper than usual.

“It’s nice right, to have someone touch you?” Dean’s own voice sounds a bit nervous, which is not anything like his usual self.

“Perhaps the clothing is limiting our interaction,” Cas states, and Dean looks up, their eyes meeting. Fuck. 

Dean nods after a minute, “yeah, can't have that now can we?”

Dean removes his hand from trailing up Cas’s shoulder. Cas stands up, with a tad too much enthusiasm and shrugs the large coat off his shoulders. Dean looks Cas up and down, with only the suit left on, and is surprised how much more casual he looks without the coat. Then he begins to open his suit jacket but Dean stands up and takes hold of the edges. He tells Cas with one glance that, ‘I got it.’

Dean glides it down his arms and lets it drop on the floor, with all that remaining to be his tie and white button up. Urgency tries to take him over, telling him to just yank everything off as fast as humanly possible, but that doesn't’ feel right. For some reason, standing here, staring into the ex-angel’s lust filled eyes is more important. 

“I have some ideas of how we could use this tie,” Dean looks down, the blue fabric lying snugly around Cas’s neck. He stares at the thing like it’s as sexy as a naked breast.

“Later,” Cas is clearly siding more toward the ‘rip all clothes off,’ approach, as he roughly grabs the base of the knot and pulls it loose.

Dean reaches around the back of Cas’s head and lifts it off and over his neck, also letting it drop. He rests his hands on Cas’s shoulders, moving his fingers gently up Cas’s neck. He meets Cas’s eyes again, with all their intensity and wonder.

“If I'm gonna teach you about touch then I think kissing is kind of important,” Dean says, wanting reassurance from him before he proceeds with anything.

“Mmmhmm,” Cas stares at him, waiting, and both of their anticipation builds, looking each other in the eyes and glancing at the other’s lips. 

And in the end, the damn impatient Cas is the one to plant his lips on Dean’s. The roughness and bits of stubble shock him at first, as he remembers how truly male Cas’s body is, but he ignores it. Cas isn’t a dude, he’s just an ex-angel in a dude’s body.

But then it feels good, Cas feels good, leaning into him.

Dean momentarily breaks apart and breathes, “you can put your hands on my waist or something.”

“Like this?” Cas sounds just as winded as Dean.

Then warm pressure rests on the areas just above Dean’s hipbones, and again, it really does feel good.

Nodding, Dean leans back in for another deep, needy kiss. They’re both tasting something new and they both absolutely love it.

They (not wanting to) pull apart slightly, the need for air becoming annoyingly belligerent. Dean closes his eyes, focusing on the smell, sound, and feel of Cas’s presence. He savors it for a second and shuffles back slightly, creating a bit more space. He looks down, the white shirt still abruptly blocking his access. He begins to undo the first button when Cas speaks up.

“Just rip it or cut it or - I don’t know Dean but I just can’t wait for-”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Dean looks into his eyes, with a calm, reassuring voice, “be patient.”

Cas looks back at him, fervid and fierce. Dean continues down the shirt, each small button taking a couple seconds. He notices the way Cas’s breathing patterns are unstable, watching his chest rise and fall. 

Barely a single thought runs through Dean’s mind, other than the sheer need of feeling Cas’s skin on his. 

Man, what a really good friend Dean is, huh?

Frankly, it’s downright heavenly when Dean finally gets the last button done. He begins to hold the edges in order to take the shirt off Cas, but Cas beats him to it, rushing to get free. But one of his arms gets caught in the sleeve and Cas grunts as he insessantly tugs and yanks it.

With a contained little chuckle, Dean says, “Wait, wait, here.”

He pulls the shirt off swiftly, getting a small nervous look from Cas.

“Don’t worry, you’re still hot,” Dean adds to comfort him but quickly, randomly, thoughts come racing into his head. 

‘Hot? I just called Cas hot? I called a dude hot? What am I doing? Cas is standing right here, with his freaking shirt off! What’s happening? What are we doing?!’

Dean tries to hide his sudden attack by leaning in, sliding his head on top of Cas’s shoulder. He wraps his arms around his back, feeling that bare skin for the first time.

He slowly glides his hands up and down Cas, feeling him tense in the embrace.

“Perhaps you could remove your clothing as well,” Cas sounds small again, unsure of his request. 

And now Dean is a little unsure too.

“I don't know how that’ll help you understand sensation,” Dean replies, wishing he could just rest his head on Cas’s soft, warm skin forever.

“It would be more thorough, you see it matters what material is touching the skin. Skin to skin would be most beneficial,” Cas says it a little too quickly, a little too needy. But Dean shuts his mind up. 

This is to help Cas. This is important. 

Dean leans back, separating their bodies. “Yeah, okay,” Dean exhales, watching Cas slowly move his arms up, still less sure of himself and waiting for Dean’s response.

“If you don't hurry up I'm gonna change my mind,” Dean remarks playfully, but fuels Cas to scramble at grabbing Dean’s flannel and pushing it off Dean’s shoulders. Dean helps a little. Pulling the sleeves off his arms behind his back. In quick repetition Cas grabs the edge of his black t - shirt, sliding it up Dean’s torso. Air in the room glides over dean’s exposed skin, reminding him that he’s nearly bare. Cas pulls the shirt up and over, tossing yet another article of clothing limply on the floor.

Cas stares down at him, roaming his eyes over every visible inch of Dean’s unclothed skin. At once, this feels a little nerve-racking, eyes beaming at every groove and freckle like a laser, but then, need takes over Dean’s mind. 

“May I touch you?” Cas’s eyes are still lingering on his form, carrying a similar need as Dean’s. 

“Please,” Dean breathes.

Cas presses his fingers onto the skin under Dean’s neck, slowly trailing down, admiring the feel. Cas pauses on Dean’s left peck, flattening his hand over the area and pressing gently. Just over Dean’s heart.

“Before I would’ve easily been able to sense your heartbeat with no touch necessary, it’s just something angels are wired to pick up, since we were created to serve humanity. It was hard to adjust, you know, to the loss of such an innate sense. And I missed the beat of your heart, “ Cas looks into Dean’s eyes, “but I didn’t know, yet, the sensation of actually reaching up and feeling your heart beating.”

Dean doesn’t really listen to the whole thing, his eyes honing in on Cas’s moving lips. He moves closer, kissing him again. This time, with his heart beginning to race, and nerves beginning to tingle, edging him closer and closer, deeper and deeper, into a state of passion and desire. He can’t think at ALL anymore, twisting his hands in Cas’s hair and moving his hands up and down quickly along his back and neck and thighs, touching every piece of skin within reach.

Dean breaks the kiss, “I want you, Cas - fuck, I can't - just make me stop thinking, I need you, I need to feel you, Cas.” 

Dean can’t stop his rambling until Cas takes the words directly out of his mouth, kissing him fiercely, even pushing him backward until he has to lie down on the bed. 

Cas rushes to place himself on top of him, continuing their kiss, roaming his hands along Dean’s arms and shoulder, and neck, and hell, everywhere he could find. Dean kept with mostly running his hands through Cas’s hair, touching and roaming.

\---

They stay here, ravishing each other with their hands and lips until Cas pushes himself up, hovering over Dean and resting his hands beside him.

“Pants?” 

“Pants.”

With furry, Cas stands up and tugs at his belt, sloppily pulling it off. Dean works on his button and zipper. Cas tugs the fabric down each leg, underwear along with it. He helps pull off Dean’s the rest of the way and they pause for second. 

“You have a boner as well,” Cas states.

A mix of nerves and surprise cause Dean to start laughing, hugging his stomach with his hands, “yeah, you’re absolutely wrecking me, Cas and it's fucking awesome.”

Cas gives a small smirk, maybe even the first one that Dean has seen from the guy, and lies down next to him.

“What next?” with each question it seems that Cas is less asking out of low confidence and more that he just simply doesn't know how this works. In fact, he’s kind of a virgin, huh?

“Now, I can touch every part of you, Cas,” Dean whispers into Cas’s ear, and begins to trail his hand up his thigh again. Cas’s breath stalls, waiting for his hand to cross the next few inches to his…

Dean scootches closer placing his left arm under Cas’s head and leaning his body sideways on Cas, his right reaching over his body and finally moving to touch Cas where it really counts.

“Dean,” his voice is extra gravelly and he too sounds absolutely wrecked. 

“It’s good to be human, huh?” Dean leans into Cas’s neck, kissing him and licking him until Cas turns his head and their lips touch. 

Their lips move slower than before, taking great care with every little touch. This kiss is different again, in this one they tell each other just how fantastic they feel, connecting their experiences and sharing the adrenaline, excitement, and lust. As Dean’s right hand (the one handling Little Cas) speeds up, moving in a steady rhythm, Cas lets out grunts and moans. They’re faint, but they’re there. Dean can feel them leave his throat, and his lips stall for a few seconds, basking in the new found pleasure. 

They keep planting small, warm, yet deep kisses on each other, focusing on just the feeling and need of the other. When Cas’s moans get louder, and his stomach tenses, and his mouth lingers open, Dean whispers comfortingly.

“Let it take over you, okay, it might feel little odd at first but it’’ll be incredible, okay baby?”

Cas isn’t at functioning ability to speak, or respond in the slightest way, so Dean gently kisses his jaw, waiting for the wave to hit.

Then his moans halt, his body absolutely stiff, his eyes squeeze shut, and Dean’s hand feels warm where liquid has touched it. 

Cas’s next breaths are especially heavy, his teeth pulling his lip up to bite it, his hips moving ever so slightly up and down. He is absolutely, fucking, beautiful.

Dean watches him, unable to stop himself from doing so, and leaning down every so often to kiss his neck. His right hand transitions to rubbing over Cas’s lower stomach, easing him as he comes down. He smiles, just genuinely smiles, out of real happiness.

\---

Dean lifts his head, to see Cas with his eyes now open. They are glazed a bit, and unfocused, his breathing beginning to stabilize.

“Are you okay?” Dean’s voice is soft and caring.

Cas actually begins to chuckle lightly, “Dean. I just experienced my first orgasm. I’m VERY okay.”

At that Dean’s smile grows wider, and he kisses Cas on the lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify, yes, this is a flashback. 
> 
> I loved being able to just write a truly happy scene, and also to have a go at smut again. It's very different than what I have written before but I like it so much more because I just wrote it the way I wanted to. Without focusing on the graphic stuff but still keeping it physical and intimate - it's not perfect but it's my best smut I think I've written so far. 
> 
> Sorry, I talk too much XD


	7. Silence Breaks the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once, they just talk...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title derived from a poem by Phyllis McGinley:
> 
> “Sticks and stones are hard on bones,
> 
> aimed with angry art, 
> 
> words can sting like anything 
> 
> but silence breaks the heart.”

The two of their gazes meet, a table wedged in the middle, and their future unknowable.

“You made it fairly obvious who you satisfies you, Dean.”

Cas looks like he’s trying to fight something that’s eat at him on the inside. His eyes show both anger and sadness. Both indignation and devotion. Dean hasn’t lost him completely, but he imagines that he must be very close, probably. He takes a breath before speaking.

“Don’t say that, come on. Do you remember - um - last year when you were a human? Do you remember what it was like to crave someone?” Dean leans closer, just trying in any way to get through to him.

“I remember a lot from that time. Like when you told me to leave and forgot to mention that an angel was possessing your brother,” okay, that definitely stung, “So, yes. I remember.”

Dean hesitates, “yeah - well - that’s how I feel, all the time. I want to have that with you, all the time.”

Cas studies him for a moment, “I don't know what you hope to accomplish with this.”

“I bet you want that too, on some level,” Dean knows he’s making assumptions but he figures, with the way Cas looked every time they’d… there’s no way he doesn't miss that.

Cas shakes his head, “that’s not an option anymore.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “I know, I know, as an angel you don't have the capabilities to handle such emotional connection, or whatever, right.”

Dean more or less quotes Cas himself.

Cas stalls, shifting his eyes around the room, thinking. “No. That’s not entirely true.”

Dean stares at him in confusion.

“If you knew what I actually wanted, you would have ran off. It was clear that - well none of it matters,” Cas begins to stand up.

“Wait, please tell me,” Dean’s eyes beg him to stay, to be honest and let him in.

“I had to ensure that I didn't drive you away,” Cas is more cautious with his words than ever. 

“Drive me away?” Dean is even a little incredulous when he adds, “by telling me you didn’t want to stop?”

Cas just eyes him again and replies, “You know as well as any that you are a complicated person Dean.”

At that, he almost chuckles, ‘you’re not wrong,’ but he decides to stay on point. Maybe this could have been avoided if he just weren’t such a coward. 

“Please - just - tell me if there’s something I can do, I can’t lose you.”

Cas fixes his eyes on the floor, he ponders over something and mumbles “it really wouldn't make any sense - there’s just -”

“What?” Dean doesn’t mean for his voice to come out angrily, but he’s just feeling so urgent he can hardly control it anymore.

“He’s left a mark, Dean, laying with a demon has - you can't see your soul but I can and it’s,” Cas shut his eyes, “it’s horrible.”

That’s news to Dean. “You mean to say that I messed with my soul?”

“I think eventually you will heal but - Dean - you must understand that it is a painful reminder of your indiscretions.”

Fuck. That makes him want to wretch. How dare he hurt Cas like that? He had no idea that Cas could literally SEE that Dean was - what? - cheating on him?

And if Dean wasn’t so set in his ways, the look on Cas’s face could just reduce him to tears once again. The guy’s clearly in pain, but he won't leave, he won't tell Dean to go away. He wants Dean with him, he wants to talk to him, which may be the saddest part of it all.

“Shit, Cas. You know I'm sorry right? It’s like I told you, I’m fucking sorry. I was the one that started all this and now i'm the one that destroyed it and hurt you in the process. Fuck, you should really just get away from me while you can,” Dean laughs bitterly at the end.

“That would be smart,” Cas faces him again, “but I’m not known for possessing that quality.”

They watch each other, both debating how this can turn out, every once in a while roaming their eyes over the other’s lips. They remind each other of what they've been through. With Cas, it’s betrayal and worthlessness. For Dean, it’s self-hatred and disorientation. Neither of them want to think too hard about any of it, and focussing on each other’s breath is much more comforting. Looking at each other again is especially comforting. And Dean sees an angel, one just trying to understand. Always. Just. Trying. It’s inspiring, even, how much the guy cares about this little planet. He probably knows billions of them, but yet, he cares about this one - and about the little humans on it - and about Dean.

Dean stands up slowly and feeling himself tense with every step. Cas’s eyes furrowing in confusion. Dean walks around the table, until he’s standing right in front of Cas.

“I kind of wanna make up for something,” his voice is small, unsure. 

Cas tilts his head, like a puppy who’s learning their new name. Dean always thought it was cute. He brings up his hand, slowly brushing his finger against Cas’s jaw. He licks his lips and watches as Cas looks up at him, something seems to be holding him back, just behind his eyes.

“Stand up for me,” Dean wills.

Cas nods slowly and nervously gets to his feet, and silently waits.

“I didn’t kiss you first,” Dean smiles and steps closer.

Cas makes no move to object, his eyes even fluttering open and shut, like he is actually hoping that Dean will lean in.

And so Dean does just that. He plants his lips on Castiel’s for the first time in weeks, maybe months. They act slow, still both weary and a bit uncomfortable with each other. The kiss is soft, mostly consisting of light grazes. Then Dean feels two hands very lightly press against his hips, holding him. Dean uses this as confirmation that he can move his own hands up to Cas’s shoulders, wrapping his arms behind his neck. It feels new all over again, except now, the pricking of stubble doesn't freak him out. Insead, it’s welcomed because it reminds him that this is the man he truly wants.

Dean pulls Cas closer to him, and soon the kiss becomes fervent, Cas’s hands gripping tighter on Dean, Dean holding Cas in his arms.

Then Cas pulls back, leaning his forehead against Dean, “I’ve wanted this - for so long.”

Dean smiles, “yeah it's been a while, huh?”

“No, I mean I’ve wanted you for quite some time, I see it now. You say it was your fault that you started this, but I think we’re both to blame.”

Dean hadn't expected such a confession, not now, not after everything. He doesn't deserve this, but for whatever reason Cas seems to want him.

Dean leans back, letting go of his grasp and looks deeply into Cas’s eyes.

“You said that my soul’s been touched - or whatever - by - you know,” Dean starts, his stomach turning slightly at the thought of presenting his idea to Cas, “and that happened because a demon was in me. Cas, you’re an angel. Maybe you need to be in me and then everything will be okay.”

Dean shrugs a little, as if he hasn’t just proposed actual sex with his best friend.

Cas’s hands move slightly over Dean’s sides as he thinks. “Are you suggesting that we…”

“Have sex?” Dean’s teeth tugs at his lips a little, “yeah, I am.”

Then Cas has that look, the one that’s been seared into Dean’s mind, and drives him crazy. Then just as quickly is it comes, Cas’s lips are back on Dean, passion and need driving their every move. 

This time, they aren't slow, they aren't calculating the subtle reactions of each other. Especially since every reaction is far from subtle. Dean leans into Cas, giving him all he’s got, all the bottled up emotion and words unsaid come out through his fast, unbreaking kiss. 

A crash sounds from behind Cas as he runs into his chair. 

He disconnects their bodies, Dean groaning.

“We should get undressed,” Cas sounds hoarse, and just as deliciously needy as always.

“Yeah, just not here,” Dean smirks.

Dean takes a moment, to pause, staring into Cas’s longing eyes, “you want this, right?”

“More than anything,” Cas reaches his hand up, curling them around Dean’s neck, placing one, slow, tender kiss. They bask in the moment, the air, the sound of their breathing, the look on each others’ faces. It’s so much yet not enough.

Dean and Cas carefully make their way to Dean’s room, holding hands and smiling.

Maybe pigs can fly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go.


	8. I'll Follow You Into the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a smaller chapter, something shorter again and to try my best to wrap all this up. :)
> 
> Chapter title from the song 'I'll follow you into the dark' by Death Cab for Cutie.

Going to Hell was… well, it had been hell. Being tortured, working for Alistair - he still has nightmares… But then - he was free. He can't explain it or even really remember it; all he knows is that it left something with Dean, to know that he’d somehow been someone worth trying to save.

Dean watches that angel who is hovering just above him get lost in the feeling and touches and everything they once shared. Of course, it isn't the same, it can’t be, but there’s no point in thinking too hard about it.

“Are you okay?” Dean whispers. 

“You don’t need to ask everytime,” Cas replies with amusement. 

Dean puts his hands around Cas’s neck and kisses him. He’s air and water, and Dean knows this is what he needs. This. Something emotional. 

Cas rolls over onto his back, and Dean watches as he stares up at the ceiling

“Why have we never done that before,” he’s quiet, his mind seems to still be unfocused.

“Because I was scared,” Dean answers passively, his smile losing as he thinks about all the things they should have done.

“Well, at least we can make up for it,” Cas reaches out his right arm and cups Dean’s left. They stay like this, holding hands and Dean staring at him with bemusement.

“Hey, not to ruin the moment,” Dean sighs, “but why was your phone here earlier, after you already left?

Cas fell silent again, looking things over in his head.

“I wasn’t in a very good place, Dean. I still wanted you but you didn't want me. And you must understand, I’ve never had to deal with a situation even remotely similar to this. In all my training and fighting in Heaven, never has a relationship with a human been brought to my attention.”

Dean can only blink. Relationship?

“Um, Cas, I don’t know that you mean that,” Dean keeps his voice level, even dismissive. 

“What?” he sounds lost.

“I’m just - that's not something you want. Not with me anyway,” Dean’s practically encouraging Cas to leave him, but that seems to be the thing he’s most comfortable with the thought of. Somehow.

“Dean,” Cas sits up a bit more, to try to look Dean directly in the eyes. Although, Dean won't face him, “you can't possibly think that I don't want a relationship with you.”

Dean shakes his head, “no, stop using that word. Being with me will just hurt you, and I can’t hurt you anymore. Cas, I just won’t.”

There is a deep pain in Dean’s voice, and he finally understands why he never let himself think too hard. It’s just pain and only pain here. It’s self-hatred and disappointment. The best thing he can do is make Cas see that he’s the worst possible thing for him.

“I believe that’s my decision to make,” Cas slowly tips Dean’s head so he looks at him again. He shakes his head with a sigh, “you still don't believe you can be saved.”

And Cas brings his head close to Dean, their lips touching once again. Dean can’t move, he can only close his eyes as a small tear escapes from his hold.

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” Cas whispers.

Now he’s really doomed.

“No, Cas, stop. please stop,” Dean opens his eyes, pleading again. Wishing that Cas would just save HIMSELF for once.

“I do, okay? “ he smiles, and kisses him again.

More tears fall unannounced from Dean’s eyes, and he feels his chest tighten. He doesn't deserve the angel that fell for him and gives him his love. He will ruin this angel, but he can’t stop it.

It’s like trying to capture a hurricane inside of a butterfly net. Only harder.


End file.
